


The Day Steve Became a Soul Reaper

by Arya_Silvertongue



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bleach AU, Edited and Reposted as a Series, Ghosts, M/M, Pre-Slash, Soul Reaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/pseuds/Arya_Silvertongue
Summary: Danny Williams is an elite soul reaper who fell from grace because he's too attached to the mortal realm.Steve McGarrett is a Navy SEAL whose father had died and left him with secrets that are quite literally out of this world.In a place where the concept of heaven and hell is slightly skewed to the left, and death is but another great adventure, Danny and Steve still cross paths. Together, they fight evil spirits, solve family mysteries, and occasionally go to the beach.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett & Danny "Danno" Williams, Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	The Day Steve Became a Soul Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Bleach AU that would not leave me, so I decided to repost it as a series instead of a multi-chapter WIP. 
> 
> Danny is still short, and loud, and very much devoted to his daughter and his duty as an (afterlife) cop. Steve is still Steve, but his father's secrets are just a little upgraded. They still bicker, and they still fight the bad guys. They also wear trench coats instead of the standard Shihakusho. Imagine that.

The wind carries an uncharacteristic chill, and Steve knows that if he closes his eyes, it'll seem as though he is nowhere near Hawaii. It certainly doesn’t feel like home. Not anymore.

“Hey.”

There's a gentle pressure on his right arm, but when he turns, his eyes don’t land on Catherine. Instead, they go over her shoulder, about ten yards from where they’re standing. Across the cemetery grounds, beneath a lone rain tree, is a little girl too pale for the Hawaiian sun. Even for a haole.

It takes three blinks for her torn, yellow sundress and mud-caked hair to flicker out of his sight.

“Steve?” Cath’s voice no longer grounds him like it used to, but it still snaps him back to the present. He waits for his heart to settle, and when it does, the sun shifts out from behind a cloud and the rest of the dirt is piled up. “You okay?”

John McGarrett is dead.

It’s not like Steve hadn’t known the moment his father’s frantic and unexpected phone call ended that fateful night, followed by a voicemail from his sister the morning after. The fresh grave just made it official, that’s all. Concrete. Final.

He gives Catherine what he hopes is a convincing smile, before making his way to the truck where he knows Mary is waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” his sister grumbles, her voice devoid of the usual warmth it almost always has, even when she’s reading him for filth.

Steve looks out the windshield and nods at Catherine one last time. With a deep breath, he turns the ignition and heads for an empty house, the only thing he and Mary have left of their estranged father.

* * *

Danny ignores what would be the third worried look Kono’s shot his way for the past minute. He knows she means well, but the kid is sometimes too perceptive for her own good.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tag along?” she asks for the fifth time that night. “I promise I won’t get in the way. I won’t even drop by the shop, if you want. I’ll _behave_.”

It takes half his strength to stop himself from rolling his eyes, knowing full well that would most certainly not be the case. Danny’s 3rd Seat Officer is a troublemaker, through and through. Still, a fond smile escapes his lips. Kono’s stubborn determination reminds him of himself, sometimes. The Danny from centuries ago.

Before everything went to shit.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he assures her, also for the fifth time in their entire conversation. “I told you. Max said there might not even be any Hollow sightings tonight. Just a routine patrol, no sweat. I just wanted to—”

“—check up on her, yeah. I get it, boss.”

He hesitates for a moment, before raising a hand to ruffle her hair. It’s not appropriate, but Central 46 can take a hike.

“You’ll be fine.” He shoots her a knowing look, which makes her beam. “Besides, I need to make sure someone stays behind to give the Captain a hard time, right?”

He winks at her before turning to face the gate. When he steps through it, all thoughts of mischief are replaced with nothing but Grace’s smile.

The peace lasts for about three seconds. 

Danny immediately scowls when realizes that he’s stepped right into a moonlit beach. Not for the first time, he despairs of the fact that his daughter just had to be reincarnated in Hawaii, of all places.

“Great. Just great.”

He gives the waves one last sneer before he flash steps away, preferably into somewhere with concrete pavement.

A few moments later, he ends up on top of a telephone pole at the end of Makalena St. It’s one of those quiet, upscale neighborhoods where no one so much as stirs past midnight. He can still smell the sea, but it no longer irritates him, because inside one of the houses, he knows his little girl is fast asleep.

Stanley Edwards. Real Estate Developer.

In her third incarnation, Danny’s daughter was born into an American family in Las Vegas. He might have pulled a few strings and broke about 23 and half laws to make sure she’s named Grace, but Danny couldn’t care less. There could never be any other name.

After a few years, they moved to Oahu when Mrs. Edwards died in a car accident, and Danny realized intervening may not have been the best course of action. Now he keeps himself to watching her from afar. His request for his patrols to be in Hawaii had been approved roughly a year ago, and he has managed to keep his distance ever since. It’s an impressive test to his self-control, but his daughter — even just a version of her, with the different eyes but the same smile — has always been the most effective motivation to keep him in line.

Danny squares his shoulders and prepares to flash step to her balcony. Before he can move, however, he feels a tentative spike, the beginning of a familiar signal.

“ _Shit._ ”

Difficult as it is, he forces himself to move to the opposite direction and follow what he sensed. He’s halfway to the location when his watch beeps, confirming what he already sensed.

It’s a standard Gillian, barely enough spiritual energy to overpower a group of academy freshmen. The bastard is probably circling a few unsuspecting victims by now, more hungry than playful. He remembers his Captain mentioning an increase of Earth-bound spirits in the last few months, which meant they had to deal with a whole lot more Menos Grande than Danny has the patience for.

He reaches Piikoi St. in record time, and takes a deep breath.

There’s one other thing. Something faint, pulsing at back of his consciousness. It's still subtle, but steadily growing by the minute.

He pushes the thought away before flash stepping to a get a better vantage point.

* * *

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He’s in the middle of clearing the table when he heas Mary sigh and stand up. By the time he turns around, his sister already has her bag on her hand.

“Out,” Mary says, barely sparing him a glance. “I’ll go crazy if I stay here.”

“Like _hell_ you are.”

He doesn’t mean to sound as angry as he does, but the memory of his father’s dying words still echo in his brain and the thought of Mary wandering the streets of Oahu at night the same day they buried their murdered father has something like dread settle in his guts. Before he realizes it, he’s got her too-skinny arm on a tight grip.

“What— let me _go_ , you idiot!”

She shakes him off easily, partly because the bout of aggression surprises him so much he can only stand frozen in his spot, looking at his hands like they’ve betrayed him. Mary must’ve seen something on his face, because she deflates and drops her bag on the table.

“Look at us,” she mutters, leaning on the couch like she needs the support to stay upright. Steve notes the dark circles under her eyes, and thinks maybe she just might. “Some family.”

The anger returns and lodges itself back up his throat.

“Yeah. _Some_ family.” It’s not really Mary he’s mad at, but his sister is all he sees and anger has always been easier to handle than the brewing mix of sorrow, fury, and _fear_ that threatens to tip him over the edge. Grief is strange like that. “I mean, what kind of daughter goes to her father’s funeral high as kite, right?”

Mary’s green eyes, very much like his own, light up in her own anger.

“Oh that’s just _rich_ coming from you!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

She scoffs. “It _means_ we both have our own ways of dealing with shit! While Lieutenant Commander _Perfect Son_ goes around ignoring things and shoving his crap under the carpet, I have to keep myself sane best I can, especially since my own big brother threw me under the bus years ago!”

Steve closes his eyes, willing his breath to stay even. He knows what she’s referring to. It’s how he lost her, after all, even before their father sent them away.

“Mary—”

“No. We’ve pushed this away long enough. Now that dad’s dead, we might as well, right?” She starts pacing the length of the kitchen, like a caged tiger. “I take drugs to _cope_ with all the kinds of shit I see. Yeah, I still see them. Always have. And so do you, as a matter of fact. Only difference is, you’ve _convinced_ yourself you don’t. Denied it to kingdom come.” His sister is so mad, she’s shaking, and the bitter taste in Steve’s mouth feels an awful lot like shame. “So don’t you _dare_ stand there all high and mighty accusing _me_ of being a shitty kid for something only I am brave enough to admit!”

His next words are familiar, almost like a déjà vu, but it’s so ingrained in him it might as well be an instinct. “I, I don’t —”

“Don’t _what_ , Steve! See ghosts? Yeah, right. Coz that obviously-living child behind you is totally here for me.”

His blood turns cold, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation before he turns to where Mary is pointing at. Sure enough, the little girl in a yellow dress is standing in a corner, right next to the kitchen counter, watching Steve with sullen eyes.

The headache that accompanies every attempt to block them out blindsides him, and his hand shoots up to his temple before he can stop it.

“Shit,” he hears Mary mutter, her hands carefully guiding him to a sitting position. It takes a moment before he realizes she’s also addressing the ghost in their house. “— sorry, but…you’re gonna have to— we need you to go away. Please. I’m sorry.”

It’s the voice she always had when dealing with skittish animals, or every time he catches her talking to what he’s always told himself was just thin air. Imaginary friends are normal, he used to tell himself, and Mary has always had an overactive mind.

 _Tell him, Steve!_ she cried to him, all those years ago. _Tell dad you see them too! I know you do!_

He remembers exactly what he told their dad then, and Steve knows all too well that feeling guilty about it doesn’t change everything that’s happened after.

“Here.”

He is ripped from his thoughts when Mary shoves a glass of water on his hands. It’s only then that he notices, through the swishing of the clear liquid, that he is trembling.

“Navy SEAL my _ass_ ,” he hears Mary grumble. Beneath her obvious frustration, Steve catches a hint of affection, and he latches on to it to with greed. “I’ll stay here for the night. Someone has to make sure you don’t go _pupule_ , after all.”

Steve waits for her to climb upstairs before he releases the breath he is very much aware he's holding. He then looks at his hands, no longer trembling but still too clammy. He needs to get a grip before he completely loses it.

_That obviously-living child behind you is totally here for me._

He walks out the kitchen and turns to look outside, by the lanai, where he sees the same girl. This time, she has her back to him, looking at the sea with what he knows is the same longing he’s always seen in the eyes of the dead tethered to the world of the living.

 _They’re mostly harmless_ , Lt. Freddie Hart once told him, when the fellow SEAL realized Steve, too, can see spirits. But unlike Steve, Freddie embraced the ability, would even go out of his way to help the occasional lost soul they encounter during missions. It used to irritate Steve, how comfortable and _at peace_ Freddie was with the whole situation. Now he just thinks his friend is a whole lot braver than he is. _No one wants to be stuck in limbo forever, you know. They just need a guide._

He forces himself to move before he can change his mind. But as he prepares to cross the threshold, Steve is hit with a strong pressure that, if he didn't have both his feet firmly planted to the floor, would’ve landed him on his ass.

It came from the garage, and he's already moving before he can stop himself.

 _They’re mostly harmless._ _They just need a guide._

Bullshit.

The man standing on top of his father’s old Marquis, wearing a ridiculous, black coat, is far from harmless. He also doesn't look like he needs any help at all.

And he's definitely not human.

Steve's gun is up and pointed at the phantom stranger before he can think about it.

“Who are you!”

* * *

Danny gives his watch one last tap. When nothing happens, he gives up and resorts to scanning his surroundings instead.

The longer he stays in the neighborhood, the fainter the Hollow signal becomes. When he stops in front of one of the houses, his Soul Watch just about shuts down, and the scratching at the back of his mind, the part that has been telling him _something’s wrong_ for the better part of his midnight stroll, has reached maximum frequency.

“Who are you!”

A mere few seconds after he enters the garage of the same house, Danny is already staring at the barrel of a gun. He fights the urge to roll his eyes when he sees that, behind the trigger, stands a six-foot-something boy scout, who apparently has no trouble seeing him.

“I said, _identify yourself!_ ”

He floats down from his place on the roof of the car. If the move turns out much slower than usual, well, Danny can’t be blamed. The twitch on the human’s left eye was almost enough to get a smirk out of him. Almost.

Before he can say anything, however, a sudden burst of spiritual energy pulses at the edge of his mind's eye again, and Danny cocks his head to sense more.

“It’s getting closer. I feel it.”

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say, because the human trains his gun right at Danny’s chest, as though the change of aim is going to make him more likely to respond to him. The move, amazingly, raises Danny’s hackles, and he keeps eye contact as he flicks the weapon with his right hand.

Suffice to say, the result surprises them both.

What Danny expected to be a petty display of you-can’t-touch-me-much-less-shoot-me-because-I’m-not-even-tanglible is flipped on its head when, instead of his hand phasing through the gun, it interacts with the other man’s hand, sending the gun flying against a wall and the human staggering a few steps back.

The other man seems quick enough to recover, as he now has another weapon aimed at him. This time, however, he seems more unsure of himself.

Danny’s just taking a few extra seconds to deal.

“What— what the hell are you!”

Danny is tempted to ask the very same thing.

Granted, some humans have strong enough spiritual energy to see souls. Some— like the man in front of him now —are even capable of seeing Soul Reapers and the occasional Menos Grande. There’s a reason why many of their cultures are rich with dark and often misinterpreted versions of Danny's world, after all.

But never, in Danny’s stint patrolling the human world, has he ever encountered a mortal who can _touch_ a reaper in soul form.

Part of him wishes he should’ve just taken Kono up on her offer to patrol with him.

“Look,” he begins, reeling his infamous temper in. The man’s eyes are wild, and Danny knows wild eyes. They’re just a few steps away from crazy town.

Still, beneath the obvious reluctance to believe the shit happening right in front of him, Danny can see something else. There’s control, curiosity, and the faintest hint of relief.

It’s what he’s gonna tell himself when he inevitably regrets what he’s about to do.

“Look,” he repeats, one last effort to stop himself. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't work. “You wanna know? You _really_ wanna know? Fine. I’ll tell you. But first, put that thing down before you hurt yourself.”

It may have come out a little more condescending than he intended, but he doesn’t take it back. The guy’s trigger-happy, Danny can tell.

“I’m not putting my gun down.”

This time, Danny doesn’t even stop himself from opening his mouth in disbelief. Boy Scout’s got guts, he’ll give him that.

“Yes, you are. Since you and I both know it can’t hurt me, I really don’t see the point of you exhausting yourself.”

There’s another twitch, this time on the guy’s other eye, and Danny knows he’s trying his very best not to scowl. He also knows that it’s most probably in lieu of scoffing at what he just implied. The man looks combat-trained, and Danny is completely aware Boy Scout can hold his position for hours, even days. Doesn’t mean Danny can’t enjoy riling him up.

Still, he keeps on ear open to other possible pulses. It’s been almost an hour since his first signal, and silence after Hollow sightings is never a good sign.

“I can touch you,” the human says, finally lowering his firearm. “Therefore, I can hurt you.”

Danny realizes further arguing is a colossal waste of time, so he throws both his hands up in the air, in a gesture that is interpreted as a surrender in both the human world and in Soul Society. Boy Scout, clearly on the stubborn and proud side of the human spectrum, straightens considerably when he does. Danny figures his pride can take it. After all, he is simply relinquishing the victory of the verbal match; he can take out the mortal in a physical battle anytime, even when he looks more formidable than the others of his kind.

“I’m Vice Captain Daniel Williams,” he finally says, the mark on his arm burning at the declaration. Like always, the practiced introduction still leaves a funny taste in his mouth. As though it just doesn’t quite fit right. Danny elects to shrug it off. There are more important things. “And I’m a Soul Reaper.”

There. He said it.

* * *

The leather trench coat is starting to get on Steve’s nerves.

What most people don’t know about a decade and a half of military training and combat experience, is that it’s not a flip you get to switch on and off, depending on the situation. You are not less likely to reach for your gun when there’s an explosion if you’re with friends and family, than when you’re riding on a convoy of a foreign delegate. Calculating the best way to take down a full-grown adult without lethal force is done both on cops who hit on your sister, and blond strangers in stupid outfits floating in your father’s garage.

“I’m a Soul Reaper.”

Still, something inside Steve shuts down, and he knows it’s a little unfair to blame it all on the sharp and bright eyes gazing at him with nothing but utter sincerity.

He wonders how long he stares before he hears a faint, “ _Soul Reaper"._ Steve realizes it came from his own lips a moment too late. The words roll off his tongue more smoothly than he expected, and he doesn’t know whether that’s a good or a bad thing.

“Yes,” Vice Captain Daniel Williams tells him, calm and at ease despite having had a gun pointed at him mere moments ago, “That’s me.”

Cornflower blue.

Steve dated a painter about a year before he earned his trident, and she was in the middle of mastering the human eye. They’re the key to a good portrait, she once told him. The eyes always hold the answer. Any good sailor worth his salt can tell you that body language, voice modulation, even preference in weapon, are better ways of assessing someone, but he wisely decided against telling her just that. She’d call the guy’s eyes cornflower blue, though, and Steve thinks he’d be inclined to agree.

It’s takes a while for Steve to realize he’s been staring; hence, not saying anything in response. Those same blue eyes flicker with… _something_ , the way it did when his first gun was knocked off his hand, and Steve forces himself to straighten, his hold on the spare Glock tightening ever so slightly.

“I’m Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett,” he tells the bright-eyed phantom, almost flinching at how self-conscious he suddenly feels, “And you’re in my father’s garage. Why?” He throws in the last part in an effort to regain control, and to hopefully remind himself of the task at hand, which in this case is to find out exactly what he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t help him one bit when Williams just blinks.

“That’s it?” he asks, sounding genuinely surprised. “That’s your only question?”

Of course not, Steve wants to tell him. He wants to know how he knew the precise moment someone got inside the house, and where he’d find them. He wants to ask Williams how he managed to disarm Steve when the last time that happened, Steve was a recruit in way over his head and Commander White wanted to teach him a lesson. It also won’t hurt to be clued in on exactly what makes him think leather, wingtips, and a necktie constitute a proper Hawaiian attire.

Moreover, Steve wants to understand how Vice Captain Daniel Williams can stand in a dark garage, with moonlight streaming from a small window, and not cast any shadow.

But all these questions sound stupid, even for Steve, so he resorts to the things he can grasp. He understands trespassing, so it’s what he decides to lead with. For now.

“You’re in someone else’s house, without permission. I’m sure even… _soul reapers_ , like you know that’s illegal.” Frankly, Steve's not sure what soul reapers do and do not know, and whether or not the guy even _understands_ the American legal system.

“Trespassing is not exclusive to American laws,” Williams replies after a beat, and for a wild moment, Steve thinks the man’s reading his mind. It takes one look at his still very blue eyes to realize he is, in fact, not telepathic. Just responding like he’s reading something out of a guidebook, barely suppressing the ‘ _you dummy’_ Steve has a feeling he wished to add. It’s going to be unwarranted, though. Steve reads. At least, enough to know that trespassing is, indeed, not exclusive to the United States Code. “Or human laws, for that matter. I’m just wondering why you don’t seem to think I’m lying about…you know, the whole ‘Soul Reaper’ thing.”

For the first time since he stepped inside the garage, Steve lets himself look at the guy properly.

Someone lying almost always doesn’t risk asking their interrogator a second time, after their story is sold. They also don’t tend to sound more bothered by the incredulity of their lie than the person they’re lying to. Also, liars don’t stand the way Daniel Williams stands. Like telling Steve a piece of outrageous information is an act of decency, like he’s doing _him_ a favor.

“No,” Steve tells him instead, “I don’t think you’re lying.”

Steve's almost sure about that. He feels it in the minute changes his own body has undergone in the past few minutes. His muscles start to relax, and it’s suddenly a whole lot easier to breath. It feels an awful lot like relief, and Steve is not entirely sure why.

Williams catches his gaze, and Steve somehow knows he’s bound to find out.

“Fine,” the guy mutters, like he’s lost a silent battle with his better judgment, “I’ll tell you why—” His pause is so abrupt, Steve finds himself reeling. He watches Williams cock his head to the side, a move he’s seen him do a handful of times throughout their entire conversation. He sighs before giving Steve a look he’s seen in a lot of his commanding officers, the look that says he knows more than him, and Steve just has to deal with it. “I need to find a better position.”

To Steve’s chagrin and utter horror, Williams _walks through_ the wall and disappears without further explanation. There one moment, and gone the next. He doesn’t exactly know how long it took him to recover, but when he does, he dashes towards the living room, cursing physics and phantoms under his breath.

“Okay _seriously_ ,” he grumbles by the time he catches up. The house is empty and quiet at midnight, so his attempt at a whisper is magnified. “If this is you stalling, I’m gonna have to reconsider the gun.”

Williams turns around to give him a flat look, and Steve gets the message loud and clear. Guns won’t work, and he wonders whether he should stress himself more in looking for a reason why the idea doesn’t really bother him as much as it should.

Fortunately, the choice is made for him when Williams finally settles down.

“Okay,” the guys starts, as though pushing words out of his throat is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. “Don’t think I didn’t warn you.”

Steve wants to interrupt, to tell Williams that he actually _didn’t_ give any warning whatsoever, but it seems the past few minutes have been a ruse, because once he started talking, Steve finds he couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“There are different kinds of souls, all right. That’s the basic. And yes, souls are real. I understand not all humans believe in the concept, but I’m telling you now. Once and for all. They. Are. Real.” He pauses, as though giving Steve a chance to argue. Unfortunately, Steve is not quick on the uptake, so Williams continues, hands as animated as the tale he's spinning. “One is a Plus, and they are the regular ghosts of dead people. They are the easiest for humans to see. They’re pretty harmless, but it’s vital they don’t stay wandering around, or else they turn into a Hollow, which is the second kind. They’re the bad news. If a human soul stays topside for too long, they risk losing their heart. Hence, they turn into soul-eating creatures without conscience or emotions. Unfortunately, your people are scattered all over the place, and you guys can’t settle down long enough to talk to each other, so different parts of your world have different interpretations of human souls. I’ve read some pretty heavy stuff, my friend. _Heavy stuff_.”

The guy honest-to-god shudders, and Steve suppresses the urge to take offense at how he said ' _you people'_.

“The last one is a Soul Reaper,” Williams continues, “That’s me. We guide a Plus in their crossing over, and we make sure Hollows don’t wreak havoc in your nice little world. It’s a pretty tough gig, but we get the job done.”

He ends his speech with barely a breath to spare, and tilts his head again. Steve suddenly realizes why the move is terribly familiar. He looks like a someone bracing for a combat situation that has somehow been delayed. The recognition is enough to put Steve on alert, and he straightens as he begins to process the fresh intel.

“So that’s why you’re here,” he finally says, letting some of the pieces of information fall into place. He tries to picture the girl in the muddy dress, tucking herself in one side of the kitchen, confused and in pain. “You’re looking for a… Plus.”

He’s taken aback when Williams shakes his head.

“A Hollow, actually. I sensed a low-class Gillian about an hour ago. I followed the signal all the way to this neighborhood. By the time I reached your house, it just…vanished.”

Steve has no idea who this _J_ _illian_ is, but when he watches the reaper frown at his own words, he somehow manages to look just as confused with what he’s talking about. It’s the first time he’s seen the guy waver, but before Steve can say anything to keep them both on track, he hears something crash outside. It’s a muffled noise, like an explosion inside a soundproof booth. It distracts him enough that he doesn’t realize his companion has resumed talking.

“…stopped working, too. The energy of a Hollow is one thing, but I also started to feel—okay _what_ is the matter with you?”

“You don’t hear that?”

Williams clearly does not appreciate being rudely interrupted, but he cranes his neck to listen nonetheless. “Hear what?”

The sound is getting louder, and whatever causing it is getting much, much closer. 

“Would you just _tell_ me what it is you—”

Steve stops from peering behind the curtain to look at the reaper, who froze mid-sentence and is looking like a terrible realization has dawned on him. It’s a subtle change, but Steve sees it in the way his eyes glint under the moonlight.

“Step away from the window.”

It’s more than a little unnerving, and the Navy SEAL in Steve is screaming at him to huff in indignation. The human in him, however, the part that still has self-preservation left, pulls him away from the thought, and he reluctantly obeys. Williams has shed the attempt at a laid-back demeanor he has been adapting the entire night. Whatever feelings Steve has on the shift in behavior is quickly sidelined when the noise stopped, just when it seems to have reached outside the house.

A moment later, they hear a loud crash, followed by a scream Steve wishes he does not recognize.

Mary.

* * *

When Danny finally senses the Hollow, it’s a little too late.

It’s a Gillian, all right, but on its way to becoming an Intermediate Hollow. It also has a significant amount of spiritual signature, which begs the question: why could he not sense it?

The most likely answer is currently taking the stairs three steps at a time, screaming bloody murder it’s a miracle the rest of the people of Piikoi St. remains asleep. It’s certainly to Danny’s advantage, since judging by another crash he hears from the second floor, it’s going to be an ugly battle. Taking a deep breath to control his own spiritual energy, he flash steps to the source of the ruckus.

“Mary!”

The room is a wreck, and there’s a huge whole on the wall facing the street, where Danny can see a young, blonde girl in the clutches of a really, ugly-looking Menos Grande.

Steve yells for her, for _Mary_ , again, but before he can jump into the fray — and Danny knows the human _would have_ taken that leap because he saw it in his eyes — he is thrown across the room and locked in a binding spell. He looks confused for a moment, before glaring daggers at Danny’s glowing hands.

“What the—”

Danny can see that all the Whats and Whos coming out of McGarrett’s mouth the entire night is starting to grate on the man’s nerves, but there’s nothing much he can do, really. Combat ready or not, McGarrett has no idea how severely outclassed he is in this situation, and Danny has yet to lose a human charge. He’s not about to try that anytime soon.

“Sit your ass down, there’s nothing you can do.”

McGarrett gapes at him for a full second, before his eyes blaze with so much _fury_ , for a moment, Danny fears one of them just might spontaneously combust.

“Like _hell_ I am! That’s my sister in there! I can’t—” He whips his head back to the Hollow, his struggling becoming more and more erratic. “Mary! Let me _go_ , you stupid idiot! MARY!”

Danny has it in good authority that he is one of the best Soul Reapers in the business when it comes to dealing with humans. He has studied their ways and customs for centuries, after all. Even actively wanted to be one of them once, but hey, that’s a story for another time. Fact is, humans are emotional, and very social. Most of them value familial relations above others, and both Hollows and Soul Reapers have used this fact to their advantage for centuries.

He follows McGarrett’s gaze, and watches carefully at how the Hollow is dangling the girl in the air, like a prize. It’s teasing, all right. It won’t hurt her.

And Danny knows why.

It’s taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure it out, but now that he gets it, Danny finds it makes perfect sense. A human who can touch Soul Reapers? Check. Spiritual energy strong enough to jam his Soul Watch and overpower the signal of an almost-Intermediate Hollow? Check. Human soul so appetizing Danny can practically see the ugly-ass monster drooling? Bingo.

It’s not gonna eat Mary, all right. Not yet, anyway. Not when there’s a much bigger fish to fry, currently on his ass next to Danny, writhing for his life.

“MARY!”

He takes one more look at McGarrett, and knows the man will never stop struggling, so he decides to leave him be. Standing on his full height — which he knows is not that impressive compared to the giraffe beside him — Danny takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He can feel the thrumming of his sword, knows it feels the same things he does. It’s a little odd, and frankly unsettling, to unsheathe his weapon in front of a human who can see him clear as day, but there’s a little excitement to it, too. Danny’s not vain, but he’s not above the occasional showing off. He may not release his Soul Slayer tonight, but getting the chance to whip out a legit _sword_ in a battle might just shut Lieutenant Commander Green Eyes up.

“My, my, my.” They both turn to the creature, who's attempt at a purr makes Danny want to gag. He suspects it to be about 15 feet in height, and again, ridiculously hideous. “What do we have here? A Soul Reaper?”

It’s white mask is round at the top, and elongated down the jawline, with dark, purple stripes like a single whisker running across each cheek. The Hollow’s body is dark grey, and its arms long and lithe. Danny almost laughs at how its form reminds him of a fish, before it turns to its side, showcasing the dorsal fin on its back.

Great.

Trust a Hollow in Hawaii to look like a giant tuna.

“STEVE!” the blonde in the Gillian’s grasp screams. Danny catches a glimpse of her eyes, a mirror to that of her brother’s. There’s terror in them, and a stupid amount of familiar, stubborn bravery. “GET OUT OF HERE! JUST—GET OUT! GO!”

Danny has a feeling if he weren’t already a reaper, these siblings will be the death of him.

“All right,” he mutters, unsheathing his weapon, “Enough games, you ugly mug.”

But before he can step into the night, the sound of breaking chains snaps him out of his concentration. When he whips his head to where McGarrett is, he finds the man already out of the binding spell and slowly standing up.

It’s Danny’s turn to gape. _How…_

“Let her go, you son of a bitch!”

To Danny’s utter horror, McGarrett charges for the crack in the wall, and launches himself at the Hollow.

“Hey, wait— MCGARRETT NO!”

He recovers just in time to jump and catch Mary, the impact of her brother’s lunge allowing the creature to drop the girl. Danny curses McGarrett’s recklessness, then, since none of his stunts would’ve mattered if his sister still plummeted to her death. Danny makes sure to secure Mary at the end of the street, a good distance away from the Hollow, before going back to save the human’s idiotic ass, which is now pinned to the pavement with one of the creature’s massive hands.

“I finally found you,” the Hollow tells his prey.

Danny sees the declaration’s effect on the human. McGarrett tenses up and stops moving, visibly shocked. He knows it’s an opportunity for the creature to finish the job, so Danny moves fast and buries his sword at the Hollow’s open mouth.

“ _Fuck_.” One of his shoulders gets snagged by the creature’s teeth, and the sharp bolt of pain makes Danny grit his teeth. He throws a look behind him, and sees McGarrett squirming out of the Hollow’s hold.

“My sister…where’s…” He looks a little dazed and out of breath, but uninjured. “…Mary, where—”

Danny pulls his blade out of the Hollow’s jaw and kicks as hard as he can. It stumbles from the hit before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. He knows it’s not completely gone, and the battle is far from over, so he keeps his guard up even as he makes his way to the human, helping him stand with his good arm.

“She’s over there,” he says, pointing to the lamppost a few blocks over. The girl is hunched on the corner, most probably still shaking, but Danny can make out the telltale signs of heavy breathing.

“Is she…?”

“She’s fine,” he assures him, with a little more force than necessary because goodness, the man takes wild eyes on a whole new level. “A little shaken up but—” he manages to swallow a hiss as the pain on his wound spikes, but McGarrett still catches it, “she’s fine. If you get her out of here before the Hollow comes back, you’ll both be all right.”

With a sideways glance, he watches the other man frown, as though unable to process what he just said. Danny follows as his eyes take in his injury, and he has to fight the urge to groan.

“Look. It’s not—”

“You, you dont— you honestly can’t expect me to just leave you here.”

Danny narrows his eyes at the other man. “Yes, I can. Don’t be stupid, you’re human.”

“And you’re injured. You said so yourself, that thing’s gonna come back.”

Danny can feel his patience evaporating, and if his guess is correct, the Hollow is bound to reappear any second now, so he turns to face McGarrett and hopes his next words will be enough to make him back off.

“How long have you been in Hawaii?”

For a brief moment, McGarrett looks taken aback, but he shuts it down fast enough to scowl again. “How did you—”

“I said _how long_.”

“A couple of days! What does that even have to do with anything?”

Great. Danny’s right, after all.

“Listen, _Lieutenant Commander_ , and listen good." Fortunately, the man gives him his full attention, and out in the street, under the mercy of a full moon, Danny can better see his face. There's something about McGarrett's dark hair and strong jaw that makes him pause, and his breath catches. When his shoulder stings, he forces himself to focus. "The creature that attacked your sister wasn’t here to eat her soul. While there’s been an unusual increase of Hollow activity for the past few months, it reached its peak around four days ago, which is, I’d assume, when you arrived on the island. Correct?”

Danny knows he’s right, but McGarrett is one stubborn prick. “I…I don’t understand. How does—”

“I was following it perfectly fine an hour ago, before I reached your house and I was side-tracked by an unusual spirit signature that kept blocking me from sensing the Hollow’s energy. At first I thought, just too many Plus in one place, but now I know it wasn’t.”

He takes a deep breath, allowing the pain to help keep his senses sharper. When he fixes his gaze at the McGarrett, he knows the man completely and utterly understands the point he is trying to make.

“It was you.”

Suddenly, there’s deep growl and the sound of a child crying behind Danny and when he turns around, he sees that the Hollow is back, this time with the Plus of a little girl in his grasp.

He hears Steve gasp beside him. “No…”

Danny grips his sword tighter, mentally preparing for when he has to release his Slayer. “That Hollow is after your soul, McGarrett, so take your sister and get out of here _now._ ”

“No.”

He hears McGarrett take a deep breath, before watching him limp forward, stopping just a few steps in front of him.

“You said that thing, that… _Hollow_ , it’s after me, right?” He doesn’t bother waiting for Danny to respond. “And my sister got hurt in the process. Now, it’s got that kid like a bait to make sure I’m properly motivated.” Danny looks at the little girl, wearing pigtails and a princess dress with sunflowers. Something inside him suspects it’s not just McGarrett the Hollow’s trying to mock. “Well now, I am. And you’re injured, so you’re just gonna have to deal, Williams.”

Danny has never before felt such a strong urge to smack someone. The hit he took with the shoulder is less than ideal, sure, but he’s had worse before. He wants to take the moronic human by the ears and inform him ever so kindly that he’s been a Soul Reaper for _centuries_ and has most likely met his early ancestors, but before he can do so, Steve runs towards the Hollow and the Plus child, charging like a well-meaning but completely misguided bull.

“WHAT IN THE— YOU MANIAC!”

Amazingly, the man doesn’t draw his gun, and Danny thanks his lucky stars for small mercies. The last thing they need is report of gunshots aimed at things most humans can’t even see.

“Fucking _animal._ ”

The Hollow throws the child away and braces for its real target. Danny watches the glint in its yellow eyes, and he can see what’s about to unfold clear as day.

McGarrett will lunge for one of the creature’s eyes, a knife he most probably took out from one of his many pockets already in a tight grip. He will likely succeed, but the assault will do nothing more than annoy the Hollow. It will flail, and swing back and forth enough to give the human a chance to climb its back. It’s a perfect position for when you have a Soul Slayer. One thrust, and the fight is done. But McGarrett is no reaper, and when the Hollow recovers, angry and sensitive about the nuisance on its back, it will hurl the human into the sky. The Gillian’s long arms will ensure a height even boy scouts can’t land on his feet from. If the fall won’t kill him, the Hollow’s open mouth will.

Danny leaps into the fray before it all happens.

“Williams!”

The last thing he remembers is grabbing McGarrett mid-pounce with high-intensity flash stepping, the sound of blade against Hollow flesh, and pain.

"Fucking _hell_."

Danny can’t recall the last time he’s been this injured. He’s broken _at least_ four ribs, and he knows he’s got a punctured lung. His shoulder has yet to stop bleeding and his left leg is bent at an odd angle. He barely sees McGarrett running towards him through the blood trickling down one side of his face.

“You fucking _idiot_! I had it under control!”

They both know just how much of a bullshit his words are, but Danny finds he’s too out of it to so much as scoff. He hopes the man can interpret his feeble attempt at an eye roll at the very least.

“I… I’m the idiot?”

He hates how weak his voice is, but the lung is really starting to get to him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” McGarrett mutters under his breath. “This is bad, man.”

A few blocks away, The Hollow, sans one of its arms, stands and starts to make its way to them.

“Listen, McGarrett,” he manages to breathe out, giving his sword one more glance. Perfect. First time in a really long time that he’s incapacitated in a battle, and it’s against a _Gillian_ , of all things. He hasn’t even released his Slayer. His Seated Officers will have a field day when they hear about it. “You wanna save your sister? You really wanna help me take down that bastard?”

McGarrett looks up from his intense staring contest with his fractured leg and fixes Danny with an ‘ _are you kidding me’_ look.

“Okay. All right. Wrong question.”

Danny chances one last breath, shuddering at the blinding pain that it causes, and tries to compose himself.

“It’s only temporary, but…well, we both can— we can both see I ain’t getting up anytime soon.” The man has the gall to scoff before they both flinch at the sound of the approaching Hollow. “In which case, someone...someone else has to be the Soul Reaper in my place.”

McGarrett blinks as though Danny'ss grown two heads, and on any other day, Danny would beat him to it, but things are different now.

“Some…who, _me_?”

Slowly, Danny raises his sword and points it at the human. Now or never.

“I will…I’m gonna stab you with my sword. That way, I can— it’ll lend you some of my spiritual energy, enough for you to finish the job.” The idea sounds even more stupid out loud, but hey, Danny has always excelled at stupid. “At least, that’s what I’m hoping is gonna happen.”

Green eyes narrow at him. “Wait. You’re not even _sure_?”

Danny’s heard of the procedure, what with being friends with R&D nerds his whole life. Theoretically, it’s gonna work. But he suspects no one has attempted to do it for a really good reason.

“Not completely.”

He watches McGarrett struggle against whatever’s left of his primitive brain that is still functioning properly for a long moment. When Danny feels like he’s gonna pass out before the man can make decision, McGarrett looks at his sister long and hard, and finally turns to him.

"It's Steve."

Danny manages a loud and painful sigh. Great. He's gonna die next to a reckless and stupid human, whose conversation skills are abysmal and all over the place. "What?"

"My name," the human says. "I think you've earned the right to call me Steve."

Danny hopes _Steve_ won't take him rolling his eyes the wrong way, because really? Right now?

"All right, _Steve_. I guess you can call me Danny, too." Amazingly, the man flashes him a bright grin, and Danny finds he doesn't mind it all that much. "Now, do we— we gonna do this, or what?"

The last thread of doubt Danny's holding on to flickers out when Steve nods, sharply, but in no way lacking conviction.

“Do it.”

Danny focuses all his remaining energy on the center of his spiritual pressure, at his core. When his unsealed blade lights up, he hears familiar words surface from the deepest of his treasured memories, before he thrusts the sword at the willing human.

_I’m always with you, my love._


End file.
